


Lot

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis is rewarded for being there.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Everyone, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	Lot

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ignis is slow in answering the summons, not of his own volition, but because his body still aches from his king’s rough treatment. His thighs still tremble, his hips are still bruised, and his throat’s still dry no matter how much wine he’s given to soothe it. He’s taken care of properly, of course—while he’s normally the one to dote on his king in every aspect, after he’s ravaged so thoroughly, other servants come to help him, wash and feed him little bits of food. A woman slips his glasses onto his face and wraps him in robes that itch against his rubbed-raw skin, and it puts images behind his eyes of all the many times he’s buttoned up King Noctis’ suits. He’s usually the one to straighten Noctis’ lapels, to fasten Noctis’ cape, to smooth out his tie and comb his hair. Ignis does _everything_ for Noctis. It’s no surprise that they finally crossed the line—that he was there when Noctis broke: an unexpected rut roared in like a storm, and Ignis was the omega around to weather it.

A part of Ignis is still stunned. The rest of him is honoured. He knows that it was only a single moment of weakness—that Noctis will be married off to a foreign princess, and Ignis will go on serving the crown: more advisor than omega. But in the moment, he can barely even remember what his normal duties are. His own heat isn’t for another two weeks, but Noctis fucked him so hard and good that it’s difficult to think of anything but _sex_. The maid finishes with his robe, and Ignis wants to tear it off—wants to crawl back into the royal bed and lie there, boneless, ripe and ready for the taking.

Ignis has always been dutiful. He’s told to report to the throne room, and he does—he forces himself to move as swiftly as he can and hobbles through the halls. He reaches the grand doors and finds them already open, one Crownsguard on either side. They usher him in, though Ignis needs no invitation—his clearance is the highest in the Citadel. But he still only walks as far as the twisting staircase, and then he drops to his knees, bowing low to the ground. 

When he rises from it, he stays seated, because his legs are no longer trustworthy. It’s a testament to their king’s strength—Ignis is in perfect shape and has been known to even best the king’s shield on the training field. Yet one night with Noctis ruined him. 

“Ignis Scientia,” Noctis starts, voice steady again, silken yet commanding. Ignis has listened to that voice for his entire life, but now it snakes through him like a heady purr: he hears the sex-addled rumble that Noctis growled in last night. Ignis has never been particularly submissive, though he’s always freely subjugated himself to his king. Now he keeps his head bowed with respect: he feels strangely humbled.

Noctis tells him, “ _Thank you_.” It’s quiet, heartfelt, though this affair is public. They could hardly keep it hidden, given how many servants it took to clean the sheets and Ignis’ spoiled body. “You performed a great service to your king, with no notice and no training. I think I should reward you for it.”

Ignis chances a look up through his still sweat-slicked bangs. Noctis’ words are formal, but his dark eyes are glinting, and Ignis can see the faint smile he keeps in check. The hall is rimmed in Kingsglaives for the occasion: only the very best of the crop. If any of them didn’t know that Noctis spiraled into rut and unleashed it on the first person in the way, they know it now. Noctis bluntly says, “Your heat is coming. For it, you may choose any of the Crownsguard, Kingsglaive or otherwise, to sleep with.”

Ignis’ eyes go wide behind his glasses. He stares up at Noctis and sees the barely-held-back bratty grin: he knows just what he’s said. The Crownsguard are a special lot: exquisite specimen in peak physical condition, sworn to and only used by their king. They aren’t for anyone else to touch.

Ignis knows he’s not _just anyone_ to Noctis, but he’s still taken aback. He swallows hard, and without meaning to, glances aside at Gladiolus, who hovers at Noctis’ right. Nyx is on the other side, just as tall and broad. The hall is lined in handsome alphas of just as high a caliber. Ignis has salivated over the thought of them before, like everyone else, but those were only idle daydreams conjured in the dead of night. Even Gladiolus was always off limits. 

“It doesn’t have to be someone here right now,” Noctis leisurely adds. “I’m sure they’d all be happy to help you. I could even recall Prompto from his patrol, if you like.”

Ignis _would_ like that. He’d also like to feel Gladiolus’ massive arms around him and see Nyx gloriously naked. He doubts any of them could fuck him as deep as Noctis did, but in his current state, he’s all too ready to try.

He means to thank Noctis, but instead he politely asks, “Must I choose only one?”

It’s completely out of line. But Noctis smiles fondly and answers in an appreciative hush, “Only you, Iggy, could deserve that.”

Ignis imagines that’s a _no_ ; he doesn’t need to stick to one. He wants them _all._

He presses his forehead to the floor again, answering, “Thank you,” and he adds, “Your Majesty,” even though only last night he was gasping _Noct_ in his king’s ear. 

Noctis makes it clearer; he lounges back in his throne, flicks his hand, and announces, “Very well. They’re all yours.”

It takes tremendous effort for Ignis to push back to his feet. He’s painfully hard again—hasn’t truly been soft since Noctis first threw him against the wall and bit into his neck. He can imagine Nyx will be able to handle him just as roughly. Perhaps Gladiolus will be able to reach _almost_ as deep. Prompto will make it just as fun, Libertus will be at least a little gentle—he’ll have to be sure that Cor joins in...

At a snap of Noctis’ fingers, Gladiolus descends the steps and helps Ignis leave the hall. Gladiolus knows exactly where Ignis’ quarters are, but instead Ignis guides them to the elevator, murmuring, “Let’s visit the training yard.”


End file.
